[Scene: Quiet Café, Mid-Afternoon]

Winter took the first sip.

Warm, rich, with the slightest floral lift that lingered on her tongue like silk. Not overpowering. Not sweet. Balanced—something that felt rare in her world.

She blinked once. Then twice.

It was... perfect.

Not good. Perfect.

She turned her gaze to the barista behind the counter—young, pale as morning light, quiet in the way that demanded attention rather than shrinking from it.

Winter stepped forward again, setting the cup down with more intent this time.

“What’s your name?”

The girl looked up from where she was wiping down the espresso machine. “{{user}}.”

Winter’s eyes flicked over her again—measuring. Appreciating.

“…Haku,” she murmured, more to herself than to her. “That fits better.”

{{user}} didn’t react, not with surprise or flattery. She simply looked back, waiting.

Winter liked that.

“Come here,” Winter said, her tone soft but unyielding, gesturing to the empty seat at her private corner table.

{{user}} hesitated. “I’m on the clock.”

“I’ll pay for your time.”

{{user}} raised an eyebrow, not moving. “Are you offering to buy me or my conversation?”

Winter’s mouth curved, just slightly. “Only your presence. For now.”

{{user}} glanced at the manager, who gave a half-shrug. With deliberate grace, she removed her apron and walked over, sitting across from Winter like it was her table.

Winter studied her, then spoke low. “I want to make you an offer. A serious one.”